CLOUD OVER ROTORUA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20174, 7 February 1929, Page 11

CLOUD OVER ROTORUA.

neglect and lassitude. ■ •

DILAPIDATED BUILDINGS.

URGENT NEED FOR ACTIOM J "

BY ISABEL MAUD PEACOCKE. Rotoma, our cherished and unique wonderland, is under a cloud. Something has happened to dim her splendour and tarnish her reputation. After nine years absence I was immediately struck by tho lack of life, tho listless and shabby air, so different from Rotorua's old alert and

prosperous atmosphere. Though it was the height of tho tourist season there were comparatively few people in the streets and the gardens and those who came stayed for a night or so and motored away. The boarding house proprietors say that it is the motor traffic which is ruining Rotorua, that in the old days when travellers had to rely on ;v long, tedious railway journey to reach the town they made a real holiday of it and stayed for a week or two. But now, when every second man owns his own car, the tourist dashes up to a hostel, unloads a minimum of luggage and a maximum of family for the night only and dashes away again to fresh fields and pastures new, or—sadder still —he brings his own camping ,gear and with a roll of rugs and an oil cooker becomes a wayside householder. If this is partly true there is another side to it and that_. is the fact that infinitely greater numbers of people must visit' the famous spa now that travelling is so much more speedy and comparatively inexpensive. Thermal Activity Quiescent.

There must then be other causes to account for the decline of Rotorua's attractiveness. It is true, unfortunately, that the thermal activities are much less in evidence than they once were. At Wbaka, Pohutu sulks in liis undergrbund cavern, rarely rousing himself for one of his old tempestuous outbursts, and Wai--102, has apparently retired from active life altogether and is as dead as Waimangu, though it has to be remembered that the latter once—when deemed dead—came to life unexpectedly with disastrous results, and the same thing may happen with any of the geysers at any time. Waiinangu, of course, is a very distinct loss to Rotorua. This famous mud-volcano —for it has been described as a volcano rather than a geyser—was certainly unique. Situated on the wonderful Frying Pan Flat, amidst a seething, bubbling, steaming chain of boiling pools and lakes of simmering, white-hot mud it would lie quiescent for months or years, its surface of motionless grey mud cracked and dry. Then, without warning, it would arise in its wrath, tossing its frightful fountains of boiling mud and steam and infernal gases high into the air in devastating explosions. At present however, Waiinangu sleeps in her subterranean cavern, without even an escaping breath of steam to tell whether there is any life left in her, and Frying Pan Flat, with its sizzling, bubbling pools, steaming cauldrons and explosive mud-pots is a lifeless stretch of crumbling pumice.

Still there is much of her old-time attractiveness left in Rotorua if properly exploited and the dry-rot of apathy which has settled on the place like a blight should be arrested without delay if we are not to lose one of our principal tourist attractions which has' hitherto drawn sightseers from all over (the world.

Lassitude o 1 the Maoris, While in Rotorua I went on certain expeditions with some American globe-trot-, ters, not the. blatant type of American who boasts that'the "little old U.S.A. can put it over every other country in the world—yes, sir," but nice, pleasant folk who had coine to our reputed wonderland. prepared to be impressed and interested. And I found myself in a constant state of apology for Rotorua. At Whaka the listless air prevailed. Even the picaninnies—once such a nuisance with their offers of penny liakas and pool-diving —would have been welcome, to give an air of life. But only one or two shivering urchins were in the pool by the bridge;, and there was no eager babel of voices "T'row a penny, mister—t'row head," no merry, up-turned brown faces with gleaming teeth and bright eyes. The young Maori or half-caste women guides wore silk stockings and up-to-the-minute clothing and talked, even among themselves, in correct guide-book English. Old boots, tins > and v rubbish disfigured the mudbaths, the bath* house in the reserve seemed falling to pieces, the Maori pa was deserted. The once exquisitely-kept Rotorua gardens looked shabby and depressed. The grassy lawns, once so emerald green, were ill-kept and brown, tha bath-houses were paintless and dilapidated. In the ornamental water, newspapers and other rubbish had been flung and allowed to lie in unsightly heaps.

Desecration of Hamurana. At lovely Hamurana a crime has been ' committed which has destroyed the unique character of this exquisite spring. Where once the entranced tourist glided gently tip the stream in a boat, spellbound by the glories of blended hues in the crystalclear water, blue, pink and emerald melting one into another as he peered down to watch the swaying water-weeds of rose-colour and amber and the leisurely trout gliding to and fro, he now has to tramp along a dusty track separated from the river by luxuriant tracts of blackberries, to stand at last—drowning atrocity—on a prosaic wooden platform. This platform, built out over tne spring and hiding half of it, casts a deep shadowon the poo] so that nothing can be seen of its crystal-clear source, its champagnelike bubbling uprush, the changing colours on its rocky sides where the captive pennies used to cling and gleam like gold. It is now nothing more than a deep pool with u no remarkable features at all, and the faces of those Americans as I tried lamely to describe its old-time charm and to justify its claim to uniqueness will always haunt me, so polite, so pained, so incredulous and alas, so bored. Rainbow Mountain, too, once so attractive strata of coloured earths, no longer justifies its name, for the scrub has been allowed to overgrow everything and little if any of the coloured rocks can be seen. Wonderland of the World. So if wo are not to lose our principal tourist asset it is high time some action was taken to furbish Rotorua. up again. If the change is due to departmental neglect or parsimony very strong representations should bo made to the Minister in charge of Tourist Affairs. A vigorous campaign of cleaning up is required at Whaka and Ohinemutu, de-, crepit bath-houses should bo replaced with up-to-date ones. Hamurana milst have its monstrous platform removed and its boat service restored, the Maori pa should be inhabited once more by Maoris wearing native costume, who would demonstrate to visitors old native customs of dress, cooking, dancing, carving and weaving, etc. If something of this sort is not clone speedily, Rotorua will languish into insignificance and be forgotten of the tourist. Already the tide is setting in for Wairakei and Taupo, and one hears on all sides "Rotorua is dead—a back-number," etc., etc. But given her chance Rotorua is not, dead. She still has her boiling fountains and steaming pools and weird wonder?, her exquisite lakes and bush and mountain scenery, and it is up to the Tourist Department to see that she is no longer neglected, and to establish onca more her claim to be the thermal wonderland of the world. - V